Long Time Gone
by Tamara Evans
Summary: Saying that Dilandau Albatou is unhappy with the Ryugettai's new melef-tech would be an understatment. But, after all, it's his fault she's there- and now he has to deal with the consequences. OC
1. Formal Introductions and Swords

**DISCLAIMER:** I may not own this series, I may not own too much

                                    But if you tried to sue me, I'll throw a fit and such.

                        So try to take it easy, You know this is for fun-

                                    Your cops will never catch me, CAUSE DAMNIT, I CAN RUN!!

**LONG TIME GONE**

**Chapter One: Formal Introductions and Swords.**

Dilandau frowned and cursed at his Guymelef. After an hour of trying to repair the malfunction in the gears, he decided that it was hopeless to fiddle with the small toolbox he had. The entire left leg on his melef was shot, radio communications were out, and there was nothing he could do about it. After cursing wildly and throwing parts of his uniform at the disabled guymelef, he sat and pondered over his next move.

Completely disabled in the middle of a forest somewhere to the East of Zaibach's ground base, stripped to his undershirt, hot uniform pants, boots and sword, he had no other option. He had to walk. He began heading east, hoping to arrive at the city before a dragon caught wind of him…

&**~**&

Kenshia stubbornly pushed through more underbrush.

"Damnit…" she mumbled to herself. She needed more chronil metal. Repairing guymelefs was a daunting task, and even more impossible when you had no raw materials to run on. The durable, naturally occurring metal had eluded her all afternoon and her frustration was becoming unbearable.

Her choppy, short, light-blue hair hung in her sun burnt face and matted to the sides, saturated in sweat and dirt. Plain brown eyes searched the forest ground for meters out in front of her, looking for any trace of the chunky, reflective metal sticking out near trees or under brush where it normally formed.

"Damnit again!" She cursed, not only for the sake of consistency and repetition but also because she was very irritated. She sighed and surged forth, knowing her anger only wasted precious energy.

&**~**&

Dilandau had been moving for almost an hour and had stayed glued to the same course. He'd become so hot he finally removed his undershirt and headdress, wrapping one in the other and tying it to his belt. Sweaty, tired and undoubtedly beyond displeased, he came to a chunk of what he recognized as chronil and rested, sitting on the cool metal in the shade.

He opened his canteen and took a swig of water, but his grip quickly switched from the canteen to his sword hilt when he caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision. The canteen fell, making a 'clunk' noise on the metal. This startled Kenshia, the source of Dilandau's alarm, and she, too, moved her hand to her weapon.

Their eyes met, but neither moved nor blinked for a very long moment. Kenshia gasped once she realized what Dilandau was sitting on.

"Thank goodness!" She sighed and moved her hand away from her sword, much to Dilandau's bewilderment. For a moment he expected her to bow in respect or run for her life, but she only continued.

"Chronil! I've been looking all day!" She approached Dilandau slowly but cheerily, careful not to startle a man with his hand on his sword hilt.

"I…um- you're not harvesting that, are you?" She asked, indicating his seat.

Dilandau finally understood what she meant. He picked up his canteen and returned it to his belt. He looked at the girl who was anxiously awaiting a response. She was muscularly built with a shock of light hair that betrayed her dark eyes and complexion. She was about an inch taller than him, held herself well and wore Freidian garments.

Freidian. SHIT. He quickly thought over the situation and responded with a quick, "No, help yourself."

In his head, Dilandau schemed. Though he was not in full uniform, she might still realize he was a Zaibach soldier. If anyone in Freid got wind that scouts and spies were collecting reconnaissance for the upcoming attack- it would spell disaster. He had only one option; the girl had to be eliminated. He reached for his sword slowly, and suddenly realized the girl was talking to him.

"Well?" She said.

"What? I'm sorry, I missed that?"

"Oh, I just asked what you were doing all the way out here." …_Being a Zaibach soldier and all…_ she mentally added.

As the young man had gotten, she'd promptly noted the uniform boots of the Zaibach Dragonslayers. She was sure to conceal this, knowing that if she schemed well enough, she might get out alive. She pulled some tools from her pouch to harvest the metal, all the while keeping a close tab on Dilandau's voice, movements… she could almost feel his mind working for a plausible answer to her question.

"Hunting," Dilandau responded after only a short pause. He checked the answer out in his mind- it worked. "And you?" He inquired.

"I'm just mining this chronil," she said, tapping the chunk with her tool, "for my guymelef, you know."

Dilandau made a casual noise of acknowledgement, silently unsheathing his sword. Only a step from the girl, he quickly covered the distance and brought the sword down in one fell swoop.

Kenshia had less than a second to react, as she saw Dilandau's lunge in the metal's reflective surface. She only barely dodged the onslaught, and guessed by the wetness on her neck that she'd been nicked. Rolling and unsheathing her sword, she jumped back, barely missing another attack from Dilandau.

She blocked, countered, blocked and attacked, finally regaining her footing.

"Zaibach bastard!" She raged, lunging at him.

"Yep." He teased, smirking as one of his launches at Kenshia slashed her abdomen. She stepped back and hissed in pain. "Not very good, are you?"

"Enough that I'm not dead!" She foolishly attacked in anger, making herself vulnerable. Dilandau struck her right wrist hard with the flat of his sword, and then smacked her weapon from her hand with a quick thrust. Her sword fell to the ground, and she gave a cry of frustration and she attempted to regain possession of it.

Dilandau did not allow her, quickly swiping her feet out from under her and going in for the kill, straight to her chest. Kenshia used her loss of balance to her advantage, however, falling under the blow and catching the hilt of his blade with her feet. She caught the blade in between her hands, strictly controlling the direction of it.

With his thrust cut off, Dilandau stood locked in a battle of strength with the bleeding girl. He didn't realize his blow hadn't landed until he heard Kenshia's cry of pain as her hands were sliced from the blade.

He watched the blood from her hands dripping down his sword and onto her face, and twisted the blade sadistically to open the wounds and try to regain control of his sword. Her grip would not relinquish, though the blood flow onto her face and chest increased.

"Eahh…don't! I can help you! I build guymelefs!" Her voice was stressed and raspy under the stress of holding a blade at bay.

She felt his pressing let up at this, and resumed eye contact with him.

"Oh, really?" He inquired, cocky yet interested, "If I were to humor you- how does this change my need to murder you?"

"_Don't_. Don't kill me- I'll work for Zaibach. I'm Daisukien Kenshia, the best guymelef engineer in Freid. Spare me, and I'll defect," she said in a rush.

"Well, if we're going to have formal introductions," he said in a patronizing tone, "I am Albatou Dilandau, Commander of the Ryugettai of Zaibach- of whom I'm certain you've heard?"

Kenshia's eyes widened.

_This guy is infamous in Freid. He's killed, pillaged, razed. Oh, boy, has he razed_.

Most recently known in the rumors of Fanelia's ruin; burnt to the ground. A lurching sickness in her stomach arose as his blade lingered still near her neck, but she buried the feeling.

"May I rise, _sir_?"

Dilandau pushed his sword into the crook of her neck. "You'll address me as Dilandau-sama, impudent bitch. Betray your country to spare your life, will you? Honorable, I must say."

Kenshia's blood boiled. "Freid is _not _my country. I'm there for the business, the money and the industry. My loyalties lie nowhere and to no one but myself.

Dilandau smirked, "It's good to know you've got your priorities straight. Well then, you won't run away from me, will you now?" He laughed.

"Not so long as you have that sword, and I am without mine," she cringed inwardly, thinking that may not have been the smartest thing to say.

"Very well, then," he sighed, sheathing his sword and keeping his eye on the girl, "you may rise."

She stood up slowly; trying to do so without having either of her badly sliced hands touch the ground. She was unsuccessful, however, and faltered back to the ground, crying out as she tried to catch herself. Dilandau rolled his eyes and sighed as he grabbed her by her shoulders and hauled Kenshia to her feet. She glanced at him and then stared at her hands. The cuts were not too deep, but they were long and were bleeding enough to worry her, though not tremendously. She looked around for her sword. After spotting it, she looked at Dilandau.

"I can't very well pick it up," she commented, referring to her hands and nodding towards the sword.

"You expect me to? The sword you threatened my life with?" He asked, scoffing.

"You attacked me first!"

"You're a Freudian, I had no choice."

"No choice? No choice but to behead me? Well, you certainly didn't survey the situation very well, than, did you?" She snapped, sounding critical of Dilandau.

Dilandau drew his sword quickly, bringing it to Kenshia's throat and giving her no time to react even if she could. "You dare to taunt me?"

Kenshia glared, but backed down. "Can I just have my sword back, please?"

"No."

"But--!"

Dilandau pushed the sword into her flesh a little more, sure he was about to draw blood. "No. You think I'm ignorant enough to let you have a weapon?"

Kenshia slowly willed her bloody, throbbing hands to her belt and undid it. She took off the sheath and handed it to Dilandau. "You hold it, but I won't leave my sword here."

Dilandau was annoyed at her persistence. Nonetheless, he walked over to her sword, sheathed it and strapped it to his belt. "There. Now shut-up and walk. One false move, and remember that I can draw and throw my dagger in a tenth of a time I can draw my sword." Kenshia simply turned and began to walk in the direction he was going. _'So much for the Chronil_.'

**Authors Notes:** What fun, eh? Quick note: If you've gotten this far, I'd like you to know that this story is FOUR YEARS in the making. I would greatly appreciate just a few moments of your time to let me know what you thought. I never thought I would publish it on FFN, but I finally decided that I had to go somewhere with the character I've spent so much time on.

Reviews VERY welcome, I'd love feedback on my favorite story thus! Thank You!

-TAM


	2. Warm Welcomes and Adjustments

**DISCLAIMER:** I hope you read the first one,

                                    But just in case you missed it-

                        I own but not a damn thing.

                                    PS, My Ass says you can kiss it.

**LONG TIME GONE**

**Chapter Two: Warm Welcomes and Adjustments.**

Folken frowned in annoyance. Dilandau. The rebel. Why did he always have to screw things up one way or another? He was a bit surprised at his own exasperation, but the young soldier had gotten him in predicaments too many times before, and it was wearing on his patience. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," he said, his cool voice breaking the dark silence that so often filled his abode.

Through the door came the very source of his current irritation, Dilandau. The boy was sweaty, smeared with a liquid that looked like grease-- or maybe blood-- on him, and completely out of uniform.

His disarray and lack of formality, as he neglected to bow when he entered, incensed Folken. He was ready to lecture the boy, but then he saw what-- or whom he was dragging behind him.

Kenshia succumbed to her feeling of fatigue as she was dragged behind Dilandau, bound by her hands. She dropped to her knees on the tile floor, letting her sweaty, sun burnt shoulders slump and her head hang.

"I found her in the forest near Freud looking for chronil, Folken-sama. My guymelef broke down…damn thing mustn't have taken to the new gears," Dilandau began, oblivious to the look on Folken's face. "I nearly killed her, being a Freudian and all, but then she told me she could build guymelefs, and I figured I'd see if she was lying or not," he looked up, paused, to see if Folken was following him. "She could be of use to us."

Folken sighed at Dilandau's recklessness, but said nothing of it.

"She's cut up pretty bad, stopping my sword an inch short of her face with her hands, the brave little bitch," Dilandau scoffed and grinned. He hauled Kenshia to her feet, pulling harshly on her binds and satisfied with the yelp this earned him. He wasn't usually this sadistic, but he'd had a bad couple of days.

Kenshia stood and straightened her posture, regaining composure and trying to flip as much hair out of her face as possible without her hands. She tilted her chin up, exposing her dirty and rather tired face to Folken. She tried to hide her fatigue, but her eyes showed how merely standing was using all of the effort she had.

Folken surveyed the young woman in front of him, who had obviously been subjected to some unusually harsh treatment.

Her brown eyes were tired, light blue hair- which reminded him of his own- matted, and skin flushed with redness from sunburn. She had a particularly muscular frame, and was as tall if not a 1/2 inch taller than Dilandau. Her hands were bound with rope that was caked heavily with blood. Half of her shirt was also saturated in blood from a wound on her abdomen. The girl was, no doubt, in pain.

"Get her cleaned up, then. Give her clothes and quarters in the guest hall. She is to rest, where after we will see what engineering skills she has," Folken paused, as though he were forgetting something. Ah, yes. "What is your name, miss?" he asked.

The girl replied, "Daisukien Kenshia."

"Shall she be guarded?" Dilandau asked, sounding a _bit_ annoyed at Folken's kindness to the girl. Guest quarters? That means she'd be sleeping in _his_ hall. She should be in prisoners' quarters, for crying out loud!

"Yes, give her a guard." Folken gave another glance to the girl and saw her eyelids drooping. She would pass out soon, for sure. "Is this all, Dilandau?"

"Hai, Folken-sama."

"Dismissed."

Dilandau bowed as he left, seemingly regaining at least _something_ in the way of military bearing, as he dragged the girl along with him.

Kenshia had bathed after getting her wounds dressed by the nurse at the base. She was an older, quiet woman who offered little in the way of conversation, which suited Kenshia just fine under the circumstances. She had bathed on her own, refusing any service from the nurse.

The clothes she was given must've been a joke, some sort of way for that boy-- what was his name? Dylan-somethin'-or-other…to poke fun at her gender. It was a dress, though a rather simple one which looked almost comfortable- she did not wear dresses. So she stayed in the robe she was given and walked outside of her room, to her guard.

"Is this a joke?" She asked, holding the dress up to him. He was tall man in Zaibach armor, and his constant observation and continued silence unnerved Kenshia. She wondered if they did that on purpose. "I'd like to see Dilandau, if that is at all possible."

The guard gave her a sideways look, seeming rather upset at her request. She just glared indignantly; getting more angered at the prospect of wearing a dress.

The guard walked her to Dilandau's room, where she promptly knocked on the door until the occupant within opened it. Dilandau has a toothbrush in his mouth and a psychotically displeased look on his face, which seemed rather humorous to Kenshia. She stifled a giggle as she leaned on the doorframe and gave a 'you  _know_ why I'm here' look to Dilandau.

Dilandau scowled and removed his toothbrush. "_What?_" He snapped, obviously regretting he hadn't killed the girl earlier.

"This dress. Great for nightclothes, but if you expect me to wear this tomorrow you've gone utterly--"

"--insane?" Dilandau finished for her. "Yes, I get that a lot," he smirked, and then frowned, "So, what do you want me to about it?

"I need trousers. You know- _boy_ clothes. It's what I wear, and I certainly can't work in _this_ thing," she said, swinging the dress on one finger.

Dilandau gave a half-sigh, half-scream in annoyance. "Why can't you just be a _girl_?" He paused and looked at Kenshia's waist. "Um…what size are you?"

"No idea. I've made every article of clothing I've ever worn…well, you know, you look about my waist size, and you're my height, too…"

"No, you're not saying--"

"I am one _hell_ of an engineer, and hell if you can work in a dress, what makes you think I can??" she said, trying her best not to get killed with such an outstanding request. Dilandau gave an incredulous look.

"I don't believe this," he said, handing her a pair of his casual trousers.

"I need a--" Kenshia was cut off by a tank top hitting her in the face, followed by Dilandau's slamming the door in her face. She heard the sound of a wooden plank lock sliding home, and smirked, "Asshole." 


	3. Deadlines and Deception

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't know much about the law

But I know that this is wrong

So, maybe I just won't get sued

If I make cute Disclaimer songs…

**LONG TIME GONE**

**Chapter Three: Deadlines and Deception.**

She woke to a pounding on her door.

"Come in," Kenshia mumbled, after remembering where she was. She pulled her mind from the void of sleep, regretfully, and much to the dismay of her nerves. She hurt everywhere, especially the cuts on her hands and abdomen. The door opened, and the guard came in.

"Time to get dressed. Dilandau-sama is expecting you in the hangar bay in fifteen minutes," he declared in his monotone voice. She sighed and waved him away, rolling off of her bed and grabbing the pile of clothes at the base of it.

The clothes fit her well, and she was sure she could work in them as she walked behind her guard into the hangar bay. Kenshia's jaw dropped at the sheer size of the hangar. There had to be over a hundred guymelefs lined up along the bronze-colored walls, many of which were being unveiled to have repairs or improvements applied during the day. Workers buzzed, the area was alive with the morning, and the view was awesome. Kenshia was enthralled with the familiar smell of fuel, oil and metal and the combination of morning dew and workers' sweat gave her a rush of adrenaline. Then she saw Dilandau.

"Well, don't just stand there. Let's see what you can do, girl."

"Please stop calling me that. I have a name."

Dilandau just dismissed this and motioned for her to follow him. He walked to a yet unveiled guymelef, one that seemed larger and modified somehow.

"This," Dilandau said, unveiling Alsedies, "is my guymelef, Alsedies. You are going to help me fix it today, and I will decide whether or not you are disposable."

Her eyes wandered up and down the immobile form of Alsedies, and she was rather impressed, never mind how hard she tried to hide it. As she rounded the corners of the melef, looking at it from all angles, Dilandau sized her up.

She moved gracefully, with power. He wondered why, if she had such a presence, she wasn't a very good warrior. Passionate to a tee, yes, but not entirely trained. Kenshia was a pretty girl, he found himself observing again- regretfully. Though not a soul would ever guess, Dilandau always hated having to kill pretty girls; it was such a useless waste. He could not help but to admire her form, one of a hard worker who knew the meaning of sacrifice. Dilandau hated to admit to himself that he didn't _totally _despise the girl.

"Well," she said, "what needs to be done?"

Dilandau rounded the corner of his melef to make eye contact with the girl. He gazed up at Alsedies with a wistful air and sighed. "She's fully equipped with stealth armor, trima liquid metal claws, flamethrower--"

"…typical…" Kenshia managed to mumble between his words. He prattled about performance, speed, upgrades he wanted and other technicalities as Kenshia listened attentively. When he was finished, he was leaning against the melef's leg looking out the huge hangar doors. He turned his head to address his new pawn.

"When can it be done by?"

"Pardon me, I know my life is in your hands and all, but you throw me in here, give me a list of expectations that would take a master engineer _months_ to do and expect me to give you a date?"

"_Yes_.... Can you do it?"

"Of course I can."

"In under a month?"

Kenshia flailed her arms in an act of astonishment and made an exasperated noise. She glared at Dilandau, who looked back expectantly, wondering how this girl dared to be so outspoken around him. She sighed.

"Three weeks."

It was Dilandau's turn to be enraged, "Three?! That's almost a whole month!"

"Give me a while to dig around... I have to get a feel for Alsedies. Then I can fix her up. That's a maximum time estimate."

"How are you... I mean, with melefs?" Dilandau paused, and continued, "Let's get this straight. If you mess up, I'll _personally_ kill you. Then, I'll track down the place you worked in Freid and burn it down. Hell, let's be short. If you screw Alsedies up, I'll burn Freid down all-together."

"How _am_ I?" She asked, smirking and not lingering on Dilandau's threats. "I'm the best."

Dilandau smirked inwardly at Kenshia's self-assured countenance and her exuberant nature that reminded him of his own. "I'll be the judge of that."

Turning quickly, he began to walk out of the hangar. "If you need anything," he rethought his words, "Anything _important_, ask Folken. He'll be able to find me. With this, he left and Kenshia stood alone with wounded hands and her life hinging on her skills.

Looking at Alsedies as if it were her rival, she remarked to herself, "Here we go."

Five hours later, the tired mechanic ran last-minute diagnostics as she readied herself for a late lunch.

"Wonderful," she said aloud to no one in particular, realizing she had more work cut out for her than she'd initially expected.

"It'll be a long haul, then?" Folken said, stepping out from seemingly nowhere.

"Ah! - damn, don't sneak up on a girl like that!" Kenshia said, turning to face the cloaked man. When she realized who she was speaking to, she bowed and apologized.

"It's quite alright. I was stopping by to let you know that you can wrap things up for the day. Most of the men are using the rest of the day for practical sword practice, and I think you should go to bed."

"Go to _bed_?" She again checked her manner of speaking, "I mean…sir- do I have to?"

"It's not an order, but I do strongly advise it. Tomorrow will not be an easy day."

Kenshia paused for a good while, sizing the man up rather conspicuously. "Yes, sir. I'll get things finished here and get some rest," she said softly.

It would be much-needed.

Dilandau was completely unimpressed thus far.

"You told her to _wrap up early?"_ He implored Folken, obviously unhappy.

"Dilandau, she's beaten half-to-death, thanks to you, and she's still working on the melefs. Yes, I told her to get some rest. And I am sure that you'll not do anything to have her go back on that order."

The boy glared at his superior.

"Dilandau?"

"If you want to see her beaten half-to-death, let me get my hands on the invalid if she cuts out early again. There's imply too much work to be done to be worried about whether or not the girl needs to pop another pain-killer or has bags under her pretty little eyes- for crying out loud, Folken, this is impending battle we're dealing with! I can't stand by and-"

"You can, and you will, Dilandau. And if another insubordinate phrase exits that gaping hole of yours, I'll see to it that she ceases work until she's entirely healed," Folken lifted his chin and drew himself up to his full height. He was clearly upset. Dilandau sighed and gave way to a long silence during which he carefully, slowly counted back from ten in his head.

"Yes, Folken-sama," it was barely a whisper.

"Go join the others in battle training. No doubt you'll need it to vent frustrations."

The silver-haired instigator turned with a short, unceremonious bow and headed to the practice room.

"I just wanna stop in. Come on. Please?"

Kenshia tried to look as pitiful as possible, but her 'bodyguard,' as she had taken to calling him, continued to refuse to let her go watch the sword training. Never formally trained, Kenshia wanted to see how actual trained warriors learnt what they knew. And, admittedly, she hoped she could pick up a few tips.

"Fine," she said, knowing precisely how to get what she wanted, "I didn't really want to go anyhow. Now leave, I'm going to bathe."

The guard gave her a long-suffering look and frowned. He wasn't _that_ stupid, apparently.

"Okay, don't leave," Kenshia said as the stripped off her shirt. "Pervert," she whispered loud enough for him to hear.

The guard suddenly became very keen on staring at his boots. "Fine, but I'll be right outside the door. But you're NOT going anywhere. Folken-sama's orders."

_Folken's orders, huh? 'Strongly advise it' my ass. He knew I wouldn't go to sleep._

"Okay, okay. Now go."

With that, the guard left and Kenshia proceeded to draw herself a bath. Once in the water, she quickly washed herself off and splashed as much water on the tile floor as possible. She wet her hair, positioned some well-placed bubbles, and continued with her plan.

"Oh, damn, can't get to my towel. GUARD!!!"

The guard came in to the bathroom, eyes averted as far from the bath as possible, and Kenshia laughed.

"Aw, he's shy. Listen, it's really cold outside of the bath, and my towel is all the way on my bed. Will you _please_ get it for me?"

The guard sighed and nodded, coming back a few moments later with the towel.

"Thank you," she said as he handed it to her. As soon as his hand reached hers, she threw the towel aside and _yanked_ on the soldier's arm in one fluid movement. The man slipped on the slick tile as expected, and came crashing down, head hitting the side of the porcelain bath and knocking him out cold.

Kenshia got out of the bath and wrapped herself in the towel, checking the guard out to make sure she hadn't hurt him too badly.

"Aw, I'm so sorry. But thanks _so much._"

Author's Notes: AHH! Sorry, I was paying too much attention to "Potions and…" If you have no clue what I'm talking about, check my stories list if you're a Potter Head. Anywho, if you've ever read my "Five Rules…" than you know I'm violating some things here, namely my 'name' rule. But I made this story before I knew what a Mary Sue was. So sue me. Though, you will see, it's one of the better ones. I strive to make her believable. Give me tips, I'm willing to edit pre-written chapters! LOVE YOU ALL. Kisses.


	4. Egos and Appearances

**DISCLAIMER:** The years away have been so gloomy,

Missed this more than I knew how

But, really, if you'd planned to sue me

Shouldn't you have done it by now?

**LONG TIME GONE**

**Chapter Four: Egos and Appearances.**

Kenshia somewhat regretted her decision as many possible repercussions raced through her mind. What if, while traversing halls she barely knew, she was found by another guard? Would she be thrown out for insubordinance? Certainly not. She was an asset- that was one thing she had going for her. What if her guard roused or someone found him? He'd know exactly where to find her, and the-

Her train of thought was interrupted by the sound of clinking metal, grunts and dull thuds.

_Oh. Well, clearly I've found their training area…_

She peered around the corner, her eyes surveying a scene entirely different from the one she'd expected. Rather than cushioned floors, dulled weapons and body armor, these boys- _well, men by the look of things- _were training in a dimmed, stone-floored hall, with what looked like regular weapons and minimal armor.

Apparently the Ryugettai were elite through means of attrition that Kenshia didn't want to linger on.

There were separate groups, each locked in a dance of sorts: parry, block, attack, defend…the group nearest her had a young blonde-headed boy in the middle, with Dilandau playing the offensive role. She crouched by the door frame, hoping to observe unnoticed, but she moved too quickly and several heads turned in her direction. One of which was Dilandau's.

Kenshia mentally cursed herself. _Right. Trained soldiers. Stealth would be a virtue whilst attempting _not _to be discovered._

He immediately strode towards her, everyone falling into stillness and silence around him. Kenshia's adrenaline surged and she could hear her own pulse in her ears.

"You see, men," he began with a distinct volume and air she'd not expected from the Soldier From The Forest, "had she been an archer, or otherwise been ill-intentioned, those of you who did _not_ manage to keep your attentions focused on the battle _as well as_ your surroundings would be dead." As the last malevolently-tinged word left his mouth, he grabbed Kenshia by the wrist and pulled her up to her feet and into the room.

She barely contained a yelp of pain from her already bruised wrists, but was certain a grimace had betrayed her discomfort. Hiding her fear behind a well-practiced mask of non-chalance, superiority and defiance, Kenshia mentally prayed that her flushing face and racing pulse didn't embarrassingly give away how much she'd suddenly come to fear her handler- not so much because of his demeanor, but more due to his unpredictability.

Kenshia had the ominous feeling that the things she'd gotten away with saying to and requesting from this _man_ in private would be paid for in blood taken by the _soldier_ currently dragging her across the room. The inkling that she was dealing with two different people frightened her.

_He's gonna slit my throat. He's going to take me into full view of his men, and to use me as an example of what happens when you are insubordinate, he's going to fucking kill me. Shit._

This train of thought was on replay in Kenshia's mind as she was flung into what had now become one mass circle, every muscle on edge, absolutely sure these would be the last moments of her life. She closed her eyes shut and prayed that her sist-

"…Well?" Dilandau's voice finally broke through the fog of life-flashing proportions in Kenshia's mind. It was then she realized that there was a weapon in front of her unbound hands.

A sword. Her sword.

"I said. GET UP."

And then it clicked. _Ohh, what he has in mind is no execution- just some sort of fight-to-the-death demonstration where I'll be inevitably disemboweled and-_

_Okay. Stop it with the death wishes. Fight. If you're going to die, do so like your family; with some dignity._

Kenshia rose and grabbed the blade, wondering if her oratorical skills might yet get her out of this.

"You know, Dilandau-sama, we've been through this once before-" she said, grip on the sword tight as she and Dilandau circled one another, "And the last time, my hands were sliced, and you nearly gutted me, so honestly, I think you've **proven your point**." _Ego. Stroke his ego. I only hope I can out-run this sonofabitch if things go south here…_

"**Not yet**," he said, taking a barely-dodged swipe at Kenshia's midsection- had it landed, she'd have ended up with an ironically artistic-looking "X" scar on her abdomen, "but I plan to."

Kenshia parried the next blows, weak from her existing wounds and questioning her ability to bear more. She was in a retreat and Dilandau had the obvious upper-hand.

"What's wrong, dear?" Dilandau said tauntingly as his footwork and swordplay forced Kenshia back, back still, "Not so brazen and mouthy as you were upon our initial encounter?" He landed a blow, but ensured it was with the dull end of his sword, and Kenshia cursed, lunging angrily at him.

"Ahh, there she is! The girl calling me 'Zaibach bastard,' wasn't it, or something of the sort?" Her blow missed, though more narrowly than Dilandau would've liked.

"Well, if you've got something to prove," she said through clenched teeth, "I believe you've alrea-" she was cut off, as a quick crouch only barely kept her from being decapitated. Tendrils of her blue hair hit the floor beneath her, evidence of how close a call _that_ was-

Already crouched, Kenshia took a sweep at Dilandau's legs, catching only the insole of a boot as he jumped to avoid it. This knocked him off balance, and as she stood Kenshia dealt a kick to Dilandau's side, which sent him lurching, but (much to her surprise) did not take him down.

Recovering, though not gracefully, he swept around with such momentum that the halting of his blade with her own sent Kenshia careening backwards, too quickly for her feet, and she ended up, as she had in the forest, supine.

Though she expected Dilandau to end this silly game (along with her life), he simply stared at the blade of his sword, looking perplexed.

"You know," he drawled, pacing towards Kenshia, who dared not upset the stillness in the room, but smartly kept her grip on her weapon, "_had_ I desired, this blade would be slick with your blood, and rather than looking down my nose at a pitiful girl, I'd be ordering your remains disposed of."

Kenshia resisted the urge to swallow hard, and hoped her opponent's '_desires'_ didn't have a tendency of changing mercurially.

"So, if you were _wondering_," he drew the 'n' in the last word out before pausing and placing his blade to Kenshia's neck, "exactly what _point_ I was trying to prove, here it is." He lowered his voice menacingly, "I can, and will, kill you." He paused for dramatic effect and Kenshia did not need to meet his eyes to feel the truth of the statement.

He went on, "Easily. On a whim; anytime I want. However- I didn't then, and I haven't now, and not so much because I don't want you dead, but because you _may_ prove to be useful." He sheathed his sword after a quick twirl of the hilt for flare, and Kenshia let out an internal sigh of relief. "To extend my _point_, girl, should you not prove to be useful; should you push your luck, show a hint of disrespect, or attempt escape or sabotage on so much as a _single fuel-injector _in the hanger bay you have the _privilege_ of working in- I certainly will kill you."

As quickly as he'd spoken, he strode away from Kenshia, towards the exit and past his somber audience of soldiers. He added, without looking back, "And I'll most certainly take pleasure in it."

That much Kenshia did not doubt.

Author's Notes: Where've I been? Four years at a Military College. I've done some of what I write- fallen in love, had my heart broken, faced demons, seen death, lost friends, played Rugby (just a side-note, that one!)… and I'm now a teacher, struggling to figure out What I'm Going To Do but almost positive I'm getting my ass into Medical School.

Well, anyway- what you need to know is: **I'm back.**

Sorry for the delay. I'm 22 and I've missed this like you wouldn't believe. 


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